Free Emperor and Clown by Dave Duncan Page A

could one jotunn
killer handle at a time? How could the intruders persuade the defenders to open
the door? How long before someone found the shambles upstairs and the guards
arrived in force?
    Kade
leaned weakly against the wall and wondered why she had ever expected to outwit
Azak at his own game. The sultans of Arakkaran had been practicing this sort of
iniquity for centuries; he had probably imbibed a skill for it with his mother’s
milk.
    Darad
turned to glance at her, and she could just see the hideous expression on his
bloody face. He had drawn his sword again and didn’t know what to do with it.
She was in command.
    “Andor,”
she whispered.
    There
was a pause, and then the man holding the sword was Andor. He almost dropped
it, and the point struck the floor with a clink that sounded terrifyingly loud.
Andor staggered, then recovered. He had not been heard; the gaming and laughter
continued.
    He
stared down in horror at his sodden garments, and then scowled at Kade. “Now
you know how it feels to have Darad’s memories.”
    “How
do we get in there?” she responded urgently. Time was desperately short. There
was a trail of blood, there were bodies ... there was certainly no time to
wonder how they were ever going to get out. Andor belched and wiped his mouth
with his free hand, pulling a face. He blinked at the solitary square of light.
“Haven’t the foggiesh,” he whispered.
    “Can
you talk them into opening the door?”
    “How
many?”
    “At
least four.”
    He
shook his head, and swayed. “Too many. Just one, maybe. But they’ll cluster
near the door for a sshtrnger-stranger. Beshides, ‘m not at my best today. Take
too long.”
    He
blinked fondly at Kadolan and smiled a sheepish grin that called up all her
mother instincts to understand and forgive.
    She
suppressed them. “Then call Doctor Sagorn and see if he has any bright ideas.”
    “At
least he’s sober,” Andor agreed solemnly, and vanished with a final circumspect
hiccup.
    Sagorn
snapped, “Come!” Moving awkwardly, as if trying to avoid the touch of wet
cloth, he led the way across the cave and ducked into the empty cell. Kadolan
followed, wishing she was going to the light, not the dark-to the Good, not the
Evil. Even she almost had to duck for the low doorway. The place was rank, a
kennel, and the putrid, ammoniacal stench told her what it was being used for.
But it was dark, and they could not be seen from the grille.
    “How
do we get in there?” she repeated. “Or separate them?”
    “I
don’t know! Warfare is not my skill. I think we just wait and trust our luck.
Be quiet and let me think.” Kade stood and trembled, and knew that she was
doing no useful thinking at all. All those deaths to save one man! And likely
two more deaths would follow when she and her varying companion were
discovered. It was terribly wrong. She had sinned dreadfully. She was serving
the Evil.
    A
clatter of metal from the other door sent more icy tremors through her. Hinges
creaked. Sagorn grunted and pulled her back, away from the faint gray rectangle
of the doorway. Then the man holding her arm was Darad again.
    “Have
one for me, too, Arg!” a voice called, and there was laughter.
    “You
hold your own, Kuth!” a clearer voice shouted, out in the dark antechamber. The
hinge creaked as the man closed the door behind him. “I couldn’t handle
anything that size!”
    There
was another chorus of laughter and shouted agreements from Kuth. The door
slammed and the bolt scraped. Arg brought no lantern, so there was only one
place he could be going.
    His
shape darkened the entrance. He stopped and spread his feet. Darad waited until
he was in full stream before he moved. Kade had already closed her eyes. When
she opened them, the giant was dragging the body away from the doorway.
    And
was Sagorn again.
    He
stared down at the latest corpse. “‘that was unexpected,” he muttered.
    “Does
it help?”
    “I
can’t see how, except that it feels like